Heat Wave

by Jill Marie Landis

  “I can’t make you a promise like that without any hard information. How close?”

  “Real close.”

  “Can you give me anything?”

  “I’m helping a nineteen-year-old without any priors. The daughter of a friend of mine. Have a heart. She’s a mom, Fred.”

  There was silence on the other end of the line, silence colored by Fred’s need to nail Jamie Hatcher.

  “Fred?”

  “Call me when you’ve got something concrete and I’ll contact the D.A. And don’t do anything stupid, Vargas. You’re not Wonder Woman.”

  “Me? No way.” She glanced at the scar on her left hand, closed her eyes remembering her argument with Ty last night.

  “When have you ever known me to do anything stupid, Fred?”

  He was still laughing when she ended the call.

  Chapter 32

  THE HARSH RING jolted Ty out of a deep sleep, dragged him up from the depths of the too soft sofa cushions, and sent him scrambling to find the phone before the answering machine picked up.

  He stubbed his toe on the footstool on his way through the living room, knocked the phone onto the kitchen floor, grabbed it, and cursed as he hit the talk button.

  “Hello?” Without thinking, he shouted into the receiver.

  “Geez. Ty? It’s Selma down at the diner.”

  Not Sunny. Not Kat.

  The air rushed out of him as he sat down heavily on a kitchen chair. It was still drizzling outside, adding a gray pall of gloom to the morning.

  “Hi, Selma. What’s up?”

  “I worried all night. Did Sunny ever get home?”

  Elbow on the table, he rested his forehead on his palm and stared down at the scarred pine that had seen generations of meals, games, gatherings.

  “How did you know she was gone?”

  “Kat came by last night asking if we’d seen her. Joe sure wishes he’d paid more attention when he saw Sunny talking to that kid.”

  “Kat came by?” Ty straightened. “What kid?”

  “The one with the baseball cap. The one I told Kat about.”

  “The one I told Kat about.”

  He’d have thought she was too upset to go anywhere after she left last night, but somehow she’d managed to shift into her P.I. mode.

  What was she up to?

  “Ty?”

  “What exactly did Joe tell Kat, Selma? I haven’t heard from her yet today.”

  “Joe saw Sunny out back, in the parking lot, after she and the baby were here yesterday afternoon. Fish sticks and toasted cheese. Nobody orders toasted cheese much anymore, ’cept kids, but Joe makes one that melts in your mouth—”

  “Selma, about the guy with Sunny . . .”

  “Oh, yeah.” She muffled the mouthpiece, conferred with Joe. Seconds later, she was back.

  “Shaved head. Almost six feet. Not heavy, not skinny. Medium build, I guess. That’s the kind of stuff she wanted to know. P.I. stuff. I still can’t believe that cute little thing is a private eye. In the old days, we called them private dicks. I guess that doesn’t apply now that women are liberated. Some days I wish somebody’d come along and liberate me. Hand me a couple of million for this place and I’d be long gone.”

  He heard Joe banging pots in the kitchen, thanked Selma for the call, hung up, and immediately dialed R.J.

  “I still haven’t seen her.” R.J. sounded as worn-out as Ty felt.

  “I’m going down to L.A.” The decision felt right the minute Ty made it.

  “You think she’s there?”

  “I don’t know. I’m going after Kat.”

  “What’s up?”

  What’s up? Last night he’d hurt Kat deeply and yet she’d gone searching for Sunny. Now they were both gone.

  “I think she’s looking for Sunny. Would you mind coming over here and hanging around in case Sunny shows up? I’ll leave the door open.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  “If Sunny comes back—”

  “I’ll call you ASAP.”

  LAST NIGHT SHE made $2,500 in sixty seconds.

  Sunny couldn’t help but wonder what Chandler would think if he’d seen all that money change hands.

  She’d have had to work for R.J. for months before she cleared even close to that amount.

  There was no keeping it, though. Jamie had borrowed money from a guy who didn’t like to wait to be repaid, so by the time they were clear, there was all of three hundred dollars left.

  Jamie had shocked the hell out of her when he came strolling up to her in the parking lot at Selma’s. Without making a scene, he’d let her know that he would do whatever it took to get her back to Hollywood. She knew by now things were getting tough back in L.A. and he wouldn’t stop at anything.

  He tried to coerce her into taking the Camry, but she refused. He took Alice in his car and followed her to Chandler’s, where she left the Camry behind.

  If it hadn’t been for Callie, he might never have found her. But one night, while Callie was watching an old Twilight Zone episode, she remembered Chandler said he was from a town called Twilight Cove. It was only because Jamie had threatened to throw her out on the street that Callie finally told him where to look.

  One of the neighbors told Butch that the landlord had marshals looking to serve them with an eviction notice, so Jamie moved them all to a motel, promising that after tonight, they’d have enough to cover the back rent and plenty to spare for a while.

  The television mounted on the wall in the sparse motel room sounded tinny. The noise ricocheted off the bare walls and linoleum floor. The place used to be a Motel 6, but after it fell below chain standards, it became just another dive along Sepulveda Boulevard.

  Alice and Callie were on the bed, the baby sound asleep, with her fingers wound around Stinko’s tail. Callie was glued to Jerry Springer’s latest expose on transvestites in tutus. When the television audience started chanting, “Jerry! Jerry!” Sunny had to get outside or lose it.

  She grabbed the cheap plastic ice bucket off the scarred Formica dresser and opened the door. Butch was outside running a polish rag over the already dust-free silver S2000 Honda parked in front of the motel room. She opened the door and held up the ice bucket, and with a nod indicated the alcove not far away, where the ice and soda machines stood in plain sight.

  He hooked the rag into his back pocket and fell into step beside her. Jamie left him there to ensure that she’d still be around when he came to pick her up tonight.

  “You know I’m not going anywhere, Butch. Not with French Fry inside.”

  “Jamie told me to keep an eye on you.”

  “And you always do what Jamie says.”

  Butch nodded, his eyes shadowed. “Yeah, now that Dodge is gone, I do.”

  “Now that Dodge is gone.”

  There wasn’t one of them, except Jamie, who didn’t wish Dodge was still around.

  She fell silent. Butch waited while she shoved the ice bucket beneath the spout and watched the perfectly matched cubes clatter into the beige plastic bucket.

  When she turned around, he was still there, still watching.

  “You think it’s right, what he’s making me do tonight? You think it’s right for him to have me and French Fry watched like this? Dodge would be furious.”

  Butch held up both hands. “Hey, look, this ain’t my idea, okay? I just do what I’m told. Just like you used to—until you took off. Things have been real tough on us the past few weeks, Sunny. On me, and Leaf, and Callie. All the bills have been pilin’ up. Jamie’s got a lot of pressure on him. You shoulda thought about that before you walked out.”

  Trouble was, she had thought of it. She knew they’d suffer for it when she left, knew things would be tight without her pulling
in the big money, but she had to think of Alice, too. She had wanted to see her little girl settled and safe before she came back to pick up where she left off.

  If there had been any other way out, she’d have taken it, but for the life of her, she hadn’t come up with one. She should have walked out, left Alice with Chandler sooner. He’d have kept her baby safe and raised her right. But every time she had looked at French Fry, her heart would break and she’d tell herself that she needed one more day. One more day and then she could leave her behind.

  Now it was too late. Jamie was using Alice to keep her around. As if there wasn’t enough reason to stay as it was.

  KAT LEFT HATCHER’S apartment and staked out the warehouse in an industrial section of the San Fernando Valley. Jamie’s car was in front of the building, so she’d parked beneath the shade of a slim magnolia across the lot and waited until she saw him walk out.

  He was wearing a black, billed cap and a frown, his dreadlocks gone, his hair shaved in a close buzz cut. He was alone. She tailed him back to the Hollywood apartment, where she waited a good thirty minutes before she knocked at the front door.

  Jamie answered, looking rumpled and exhausted. “She’s not here. You can come in and see for yourself if you want.”

  “No thanks.”

  Behind him, the living room was empty, the television off, the drapes drawn.

  “Have you seen her lately?”

  “No.” He braced his hand on the edge of the door and stared back. “What are you doing here? What’s up?”

  “Her dad’s worried about her, that’s all. I was on my way to Long Beach and told him I’d stop by and see if she was around.”

  “I haven’t seen her for weeks. I figured she was with him.”

  “If you do see her, tell her to call him. She has the number.”

  “Right. If I see her.”

  Liar.

  A hard-eyed stare dared her to challenge him, but his eyes couldn’t lie. Even if Sunny wasn’t in the apartment, she was around somewhere and Jamie knew where.

  Kat thanked him and walked away, doubting he’d be going anywhere soon. She felt as beat as he looked, so she decided to head home to Long Beach and come back later, hopefully before Jamie was on the move again.

  Back at her apartment, she went through all the mail that hadn’t made it through first-class forwarding to Twilight. Ninety-nine percent of it was bulk junk that she tossed. She screened the phone messages, and when she woke up after having fallen asleep with her head on her desk, she forced herself to take a nap for a couple of hours, then took a shower.

  She’d been tight as an overwound clock all day and regretted setting up a date with Mitch but forced herself to keep it. She didn’t even try to kid herself. She was going just to prove that Ty Chandler, Sunny, Alice, even Twilight with its small-town, homey atmosphere hadn’t really gotten to her.

  Kelly’s Restaurant was one dimly lit room with a crowded bar where the rich and not-so-famous mixed with the older yacht club crowd.

  Mitch Carson hadn’t changed a bit in the two years since she’d last seen him. His favorite topic of discussion was still himself. From the moment she sat down, he talked about his job, his new Beemer, all the money he’d made in spite of the bad market, and his goal to buy a condo on Ka’anapali Beach.

  She nodded, half listening, making the appropriate responses, silently planning what she was going to do after she left him.

  Tuning out Mitch’s endless stream of one-sided conversation, she played with the stem of her wineglass, determined not to have more than one drink. She’d need all her wits about her when she drove back to the Valley later.

  Her enthusiasm for being out with Mitch had dwindled completely away before the Caesar salad arrived. Somehow she’d made it through the main course, but she knew she couldn’t sit through dessert.

  “So, what have you been up to?” He had moved closer when she wasn’t paying attention. His nearness startled her.

  The fact that he’d finally asked a personal question astounded her.

  “The usual.”

  “Working on a hot case?” He spread his hand over her thigh, rubbed his thumb against her black silk trousers.

  Hot? A flash point ignited the memory of her and Ty in the backseat of his car. Compared to Ty, Mitch didn’t know hot from cold.

  She shook her head. “Nothing hot. Not at the moment.”

  “I’m glad we could hook up again.” His smile was rehearsed, as wide as it was false. She was sure it worked for the clients and partners down at the brokerage, but it wasn’t doing a thing for her tonight. She found herself wondering how she ever thought him attractive enough to sleep with before.

  He leaned close, skimming his fingers over the back of her hand.

  “Why don’t we go to my place and you can tell me all about your not-so-hot case . . . in detail.”

  She drew her hand out from beneath his, grabbed her purse, and slid across the banquette seat. “I just remembered I have another engagement.”

  “You’re joking, right?” Mitch was out of the booth, tossing bills on the table. “You’re not leaving now.”

  He trailed her to the door.

  “Kat, wait a minute.” He grabbed her wrist.

  She stepped up so close to him that she got a good look at the pores on his nose. “Let go of me, Mitch, or so help me, I’ll have you on the ground before you can take another breath.”

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Instantly, he let go, but she could see he wasn’t happy about it.

  She smiled, feeling better than she had in a long, long time.

  “I guess you could say I just woke up.”

  By the time Ty finally pulled up outside Kat’s apartment it was around 6:25 and he was brain dead. After reaching the metropolitan area, he had sat in gridlock for nearly two hours before he finally got to Long Beach.

  He parked, pulled out a small overnight bag, and headed up the drive to Kat’s small duplex. The owner of the larger cottage in front was watering the garden between the two wood-frame structures.

  He figured Kat wasn’t home when he didn’t see her car but he knocked twice anyway before he dug her hide-a-key out of the dirt beneath a half-dead geranium plant in a pot on the front porch.

  As he swung the door open, he called her name. It wouldn’t do to startle a woman who owned a gun.

  The living room looked as if a hurricane had hit. She’d dumped her overnight bag on the floor, tossed mail at the small can beside her desk, but most of it littered the floor.

  In the compact bathroom off the kitchen, he saw a few drops of water left on the glass shower door. The heady jasmine scent of her perfume lingered on the air.

  He helped himself to a diet soda, and back in the living room again, he checked the desk, looking for a note, a calendar, anything that might give him a clue as to where she’d gone.

  A calendar did lie open on top of the desk, but the dates after she’d left for Twilight were all blank.

  A side desk drawer gapped open, and as he stood there wondering where she might be, he caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a child’s wooden building block sticking out from beneath a stack of papers.

  Nudging the pages off, he found himself staring at a frame bordered with wooden baby blocks, chubby teddy bears, and bunny rabbits.

  He picked it up, held it right-side up, then upside down, trying to figure out the black-and-white Polaroid inside, until he noticed a digital date and time printed out in the corner. He saw Kat’s name and that of a medical group on Kauai and suddenly realized he was looking at a sonogram image.

  He checked the date again. Almost five and a half years ago.

  He sat down heavily on the pine folding chair near Kat’s desk, held the photo between his knees, and stared at it. Absentl
y, he rubbed his thumb back and forth across a teddy bear seated on a wooden block.

  She’s kept her baby girl’s shadowed image all this time.

  He remembered everything she’d said last night about Sunny and Alice and the daughter she’d lost, and vowed that he’d give her the child she craved. Hell, he’d give her a house full.

  Reverently, he replaced the photo beneath the stack of papers and left the drawer open, just as he’d found it.

  IT WAS ALMOST EIGHT when Kat turned the corner off Fifth Street, still congratulating herself for walking out on Mitch, until she noticed Ty’s Land Cruiser parked in front of her place.

  Her heart started hammering, her hands tightened on the steering wheel. She kept right on driving, trying to convince herself that she really hadn’t experienced a sudden burst of joy when she realized he was there.

  She didn’t stop until she’d circled the block and parked where she could still see his car, but where hers wouldn’t be visible from inside the apartment.

  She sat in the gathering darkness, knowing Ty was a little less than a block away, wanting to go to him in the worst way. She knew if she saw him that she’d have to lie about where she was going tonight and run the risk of his finding out what she was up to. She couldn’t go home to change before she drove up to the Valley to stake out Hatcher’s place again.

  Luckily, she had on black slacks and she always kept an old black sweatshirt and running shoes in the car in case of an emergency.

  They’d have to do.

  Chapter 33

  SUNNY’S PALMS WERE sweating. She was on the streets again, this time racing the law, not time. The red Ferrari would be easy to spot, though she was driving it fast enough to outrun almost anything else on the road. They’d stolen three cars tonight. Boosted three cars, she amended.

  She had tried to reason with Jamie, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. She argued that racing was easier, reminded him she’d made $2,500 last night, but he was convinced the new connection with the car ring would set them up faster and add to the cash they needed. He didn’t have to remind her their need for so much cash was all her fault.